Out On Their Own
by Weasel Girl
Summary: After 7th year, Harry, Ron and Hermione leave Hogwarts to share a flat in London. How will they cope with dodgy landlords, Hermione's housework rota and trips to Ikea? Will Harry find love? And when did Sirius learn to cook? HPGW HGRW SBRL Chapter 4 up!
1. Default Chapter

  
Disclaimer: These are not my characters, they belong to JK Rowling. I just like putting them in these situations for my own amusement.  
  
Rating: PG-13. Might rise to R for future chapters for swearing mostly, maybe some sexual refernces, depends how far I get.  
  
Out On Their Own  
  
This story takes place after Harry, Hermione and Harry have finished Hogwarts. Freed form education, they have decided to look for a flat to share in London. Ron and Hermione are together and Sirius isn't dead, he is living in domestic bliss with Remus in Grimmauld Place. As for Harry....well, I'll come to that later.  
  
Chapter 1: Return to Grimmauld Place  
  
It was the summer after Harry, Ron and Hermione's graduation from Hogwarts. Although there had been no final showdown with Voldemort at the end of seventh year, Harry and his friends were still heavily involved with the Order and the fight against You Know Who. Because of this, and the fact that Harry and Ron had successfully been accepted on the Auror Training Course at the Ministry of Magic, the three of them had decided to look for a place to live in London. It was handy for work, but more importantly they were close to the Order and Grimmauld Place.

They had accepted Sirius' offer to stay there while they looked for a flat, Harry however had refused his offer of living there permanently because it was frankly too depressing and he needed a break form the Order now and then. He didn't fancy tripping over Snape as he left for work every morning, or bumping into Tonks wearing just a towel on the landing.

Besides, he wanted a bit of freedom for himself, away from Sirius who still remained a parental figure in some ways. He couldn't imagine his Godfather and Remus scrutinising very girl he brought home. And he was looking forward to living with Ron and Hermione, they had been enthusiastically planning their brilliant flat and exciting life in London partying and fighting the Dark Arts.

Harry was still into the idea, but their plans had gone slightly awry in the last term of school, when Ron and Hermione had finally stopped bickering long enough to see what everyone else had been able to see for seven years and get together. They weren't planning to shack up in a love nest straight away, though, they reassured Harry. Hermione sensibly felt she wasn't quite ready to move in with her boyfriend as a couple after only a few months of dating, but still wanted to live with her friends in their own apartment. Ron seemed okay with the idea; they saved money by splitting the rent with Harry and he still got to see Hermione in her nightie.

After that last tearful train journey home from Hogwarts (Harry had felt his eyes moisten in the steam at Hogsmeade station), the trio had briefly gone their separate ways, Hermione to her parents to decide what to bring to London, and Ron to the Burrow to do the same. Harry hadn't needed to do this, he simply went back to Grimmauld Place with Sirius.

That first night back, Harry, Sirius and Remus sat in the kitchen reminiscing and plotting Harry's future. Sirius had ordered a Chinese takeaway to celebrate, Remus had contributed a bottle of fire whiskey.

"We saw this one place, Harry," Lupin was saying, "Christ it was bloody awful, mice everywhere and holes in the walls. The door wouldn't lock properly either, our first week there we got burgled and my gramophone got stolen, remember? And you bought me a new one with your first week's wages and couldn't afford to eat for a week!"

Sirius laughed, "I remember." He smiled handsomely, "and that land lady witch in Kings Cross, tried to rent us that hellhole for ten galleons a week. There wasn't even a bathroom, just a bucket under the stairs!" Sirius chuckled and swiped the last spring roll from Remus' plate.

Harry's eyes widened, "surely not everywhere's like that, I mean, standards have improved since you were my age, haven't they?" The trendy party flat him and Ron had been planning was looking less and less likely with every dodgy dive Sirius and Remus told him about. And there had been a few.

"Don't be so sure Harry, there's still plenty of dodgy landlords out there trying to rip you off," Remus took another swig of Whiskey. "Of course, it's not impossible to find somewhere, but in London....." he trailed off.

"Yeah, but we could magic it up a bit, couldn't we? I'm sure Hermione'll know a few handy spells."

"'Spose so," Sirius got up and walked over to the counter to get the Chow Main and a newspaper. He tossed it at Harry. "Here, latest Daily Prophet. I've been saving it for you for the to - let section. I circled one or two I thought might be okay."

Harry looked down at the paper, several adverts were ringed in dark purple ink.

"Hmmm." Harry put the paper to one side. "I'll look at it later, can't face it tonight." He drained his glass, his mouth burning form the taste of the drink. It wasn't his first encounter with the whiskey, there had been that incident at Ron's eighteenth birthday after all, but he still hadn't got used to the taste, he couldn't stomach it like Sirius and Remus who swallowed it like water. Must be the years of practice, he told himself.

"Here, Harry, what's all this about Ron and Hermione getting together?" Remus leaned over the table like a gossiping schoolgirl.

"Yeah, Harry, tell us all the details. It's about time those two got it together."

Harry laughed at two grown men fascinated over the love lives of two teenagers, but happily filled them in on the details, grateful for a break in the grotty flat talk.

"I knew it," cried Sirius, lighting another cigarette as Harry finished the tale. "I always knew Ron was desperate to get it on with her."

"Of course Padfoot," Remus rolled his eyes. "It was always obvious that Head Girl Miss Granger was going to fall for Ron's charms."

"He must have charms we don't know about then," retorted Sirius with a grin.

Harry looked appalled. "Please, don't talk about my friends that way. Or your former students," he glanced at Remus, who was looking pretty pissed by now. "You're putting me right off my spare ribs."

"Sorry Harry, you're quite right, it's quite inappropriate."

"But Harry, you lot were inseparable for years, wasn't there ever, a certain tension between the three of you? I mean, is it such a good idea now living together?"

Harry grimaced at Sirius' words. "Euww, no! A love triangle! Bloody hell you make it sound like something out of those dreadful muggle soap operas Aunt Petunia used to watch! God no! Hermione has only ever been a friend in my eyes, it's Ron who's always liked her. Shit, I wish you two wouldn't sit around thinking about our love lives, it's gross. And quite disturbing."

The others grinned. They were both quite drunk by now. Harry hoped Dumbledore hadn't any serious Order business planned for tomorrow morning. He was quite sure they wouldn't be up to it. Besides, he was telling the truth, he'd only ever seen Hermione as a friend, and maybe a sister. Other girls though, well they were a very different matter.


	2. Harry's Terrible Hangover

Disclaimer: These characters are JK Rowling's, obviously. Not mine!

My second chapter! Thanks for reading!

Many thanks to D.S.S. for being my first reviewer! It made me so happy!  
Anyway, onwards and upwards...

Chapter 2: Harry's Terrible Hangover

Harry woke up the next day in his bedroom at Grimmauld Place with the hangover from hell. If he hadn't known better, he could've sworn Snape had put something in his fire whiskey. No, he reminded himself, it was just the skinful of alcohol he'd consumed the night before.

He propped himself up on his elbows. It bloody hurt to move his head off the pillow but he managed to sit up for a moment. Grimmauld Place sounded pretty quiet, he imagined Sirius and Remus were sleeping it off in their gorgeous king size four poster bed on the floor below. If they felt anything like he did..... Christ he didn't want to know about it, his mouth felt like a hinkey punk had died in there.

He looked round and parted the heavy velvet curtains at his window gently. The July light streamed in and Harry had to look away, it was too bright for his overly heightened senses this morning. Still no sign of Hedwig or any other owls. He knew it was a bit early to hear form Ron or Hermione, but hopefully they'd be there in the next few days and they could start on their flat-hunting.

As Harry lay back on his beautifully cool pillow, a wave of nausea overcame him and he leapt from his bed with an energy he didn't think he possessed and made for the bathroom.

Hours later, sometime around one in the afternoon, Harry awoke for a second time. For the second time he felt like shit. He blinked his eyes open to find Hedwig hooting rather more loudly than was necessary. He took the note from her leg and opened it, fingers trembling. He couldn't work out a word, but then he realised he wasn't wearing his glasses and fumbled for them on the bedside table. Eyes suitably attired, he began to read:

_Dear Harry,_

_Hope your first night home was a good one. This note is just to let you know that I have booked a last minute holiday to Greece on the internet for me and Ron, so we will not be back in London to go house hunting until next week. We are jetting out from Stansted this afternoon, but we will send you a post card. Say hi to Sirius and Professor Lupin for me._

_Love Hermione._

_PS Ron says hello_

Harry shooed Hedwig away as she tried to nuzzle him. "Get away you silly owl."

Hedwig turned away in disgust. She didn't recognize this grizzly, bedraggled Harry sporting a scowl and a the beginnings of a patchy beard. Needless to say, she didn't approve.

Harry felt pretty pissed off after reading Hermione's letter. He almost felt, how dare they go away? Away without him, you mean, he told himself. Yes, they were a couple now. And yes, he knew that would sometimes cause friction between the three of them, especially if they were living together. How could it not, they'd been best friends for years.

But then Harry realised, it wasn't the their couply business that bothered him so much. It was the fact that he'd been expecting to see them soon to get on with finding a flat, and now he'd have to wait another week at Grimmauld place before they could really get started.

The other thing that pissed Harry off, was the fact that he wasn't part of a couple. He didn't think he'd feel it so soon, but he did and he was jealous as all hell of Ron, having a gorgeous girl to go swanning off into the sunset with. True, it was only an easyjet flight to Greece, but still. It beat hanging out in creepy old Grimmauld place with Sirius and Remus and the possibility of Snape popping in.

Sod 'em, thought Harry, trying to get out of bed. This proved harder than it sounded. Eventually, with tremendous effort, he forced his aching body to stand and he staggered downstairs to the kitchen.

Harry walked in to find Sirius and Remus impossibly chirpy. Sirius was bent over the Aga making pancakes in a velvet smoking jacket. Remus was doing the crossword in the Daily Prophet and still wearing his stripy cotton pyjamas. Harry suddenly felt very self conscious of the fact he was wearing his Homer Simpson boxer shorts and a faceful of stubble.

"Harry!" boomed Sirius from the stove. "How you feeling? Fancy some pancakes?" He proffered the frying pan in Harry's direction with a cheery grin bordering on the manic.

"Eh? No! Err, I mean, no thanks." Harry scratched his head, "since when did you know how to cook?"

"Oh, young Mooney here taught me thing or two." The pair exchanged glances, Remus peered sexily over the top of his newspaper, Sirius flashed a sleazy grin. "The rest I learnt from books."

"Err, right." Harry sat down, more than slightly perplexed by this scene of domestic bliss.

"Coffee Harry?" Remus held out a coffee pot and a slightly chipped mug.

"Yeah, alright." Harry eased himself into a chair and tried to focus on holding his drink. "I got this letter from Hermione. Says she's off to Greece with Ron, they won't be back till next week so I can't really get looking for a place to live until then."

"Well, that's okay," said Sirius, "You can stay here as long as you like, you know that."

Harry nodded. Something knobbly was pounding his head from the inside and it really fucking hurt.

"Feeling like shit?" asked Remus sagely over his coffee cup.

"Uh-huh." Harry rubbed his temple. "I don't know how you two do it."

"Years of practice," said Sirius, flipping the pancakes with a spatula.

"Don't worry, it gets better," reassured Remus, munching his pancakes.

"Don't listen to him Harry, it bloody doesn't. Mooney, don't talk bollocks. I'm sorry Harry, it's just I thought you'd have inherited your father's talent for boozing. He had the constitution of a hippogriff."

"It took him a few years mind. Remember that time he threw up all over Lily's shoes at the Goblin Grotto one night? No wonder they didn't get together for ages. And I don't know if talent is the right word for it."

"The Goblin Grotto? Where's that?" Harry was intrigued, as he always was when they talked about his parents in their student days.

"Where was it you mean," smirked Sirius.

"It was this infamous nightclub in Hogsmeade," Remus explained. "A total dive, it was shut down eventually for underage drinking."

"I had my first kiss there," mused Sirius.

"You did not! Your first kiss was in first year, behind the greenhouses."

"Well, my first something there anyway," Sirius put the pancakes onto a plate. "Those days are a bit hazy now I'm afraid."

"Because you were permanently pissed," retorted Harry's former professor.

Harry smiled at the good natured banter between the two. He envied the closeness they had, the same closeness that Hermione and Ron were no doubt developing in the departure lounge of Stansted Airport. He grinned, thinking of Ron getting on a plane for the first time, he'd probably be terrified.

"Harry?"

He looked up, "Sirius?"

"We were thinking of having a few people round tonight, a bit of a get together, if you're not feeling too rough?"

"More booze?"

"Well, yes, but I'll cook. It'll be fun."

"Only if you want to though," said Remus. "If you can't face folk with a hangover..."

"No, it's not that, it's just I don't think I can face Dumbledore with a hangover. I've only just left Hogwarts."

"Oh, no," said Remus, "he won't be there. It'll be the Order, but Dumbledore left for his summer holidays yesterday so there's no danger of running into him."

"Or Snape," added Sirius, reading Harry's mind. "Severus isn't invited to my dinner parties."

Harry nodded and reached for the coffee pot...


	3. Return

Chapter 3 Return

Harry looked up from his battered copy of the Daily Prophet to see a strange, runty kind of owl twittering on his window sill. Dressed only in a pair of shorts (the temperature for London in the Daily Prophet weather section read 32 degrees), he got off the bed and reached for the card held in the owl's claws. Squawking cheerily, it flew off to whence it came

Harry saw a glossy picture of a shimmery blue horizon and idyllic islands edged in sand. When he turned it in the light, the sand sparkled and the water rose and fell in its magical frame. On the other side, he saw the message was short:

_Hi Harry! Wish you were here. Ron does too, but he's drank too much to get out of bed and go to buy postcards. See you soon H R _

Harry tossed the postcard on the bed. He wasn't bothered what that pair were up to. He wanted them to get back pronto so they could get on with finding the flat. This past week at Grimmauld Place had been fun to start with, but another of Sirius' dinner parties he could do without.

He seemed to have a constant hangover, and he'd put on four pounds from his godfather's cooking. The stream of guests through the house, ostensibly there on Order business, seemed intent on having as good a time as possible night after night. Sirius and Remus seemed to know a great deal of people, many Harry had never met before, but of course, they'd all heard of him.

Though he'd craved a hectic social night that went beyond Hogsmeade and the common room, in truth he was knackered. His tiredness was compiled by the fact that it was too hot to sleep, so he would just drink till he passed out. This lead to several mornings crouched over the toilet bowl feeling more than awful.

Sirius and Remus didn't seem to mind. "You're your own man now," Sirius would say, "it's up to you to make your own decisions and your own mistakes."

Since when did you get so wise? Harry wondered to himself as he'd drifted back to bed that morning feeling like shit.

Still, tonight would be quiet. Sirius and Remus were going out to the opera.

"Want to come Harry?" asked Remus the night before. Harry had politely declined. Opera was certainly not his thing and he quite fancied having the house to himself for once. Since Sirius and Remus were both unemployed, they spent a lot of time hanging around the house and bickering. Harry had found it cute at times but not when he was constantly subjected to it day in day out. Indeed, he was hoping to start reading some of the required texts for his Auror course, which he had picked up in Diagon Alley the other day.

Prowling downstairs, he found things surprisingly quiet. A quick glance around the ground floor showed Sirius asleep in the library: Harry suspected Remus was out picking up some dry cleaning.

Comfortably seated in a kitchen chair, a big glass of milk beside him, and First Principles of Auror Theory propped up on the table, Harry began to relax into a leisurely afternoon. He had read precisely three paragraphs when the kitchen door banged open and his two best friends barged in, sporting tans, and in Ron's case, a dodgy straw hat.

"Harry!" cried Hermione, flinging down her smart hand luggage and giving him a hug. She flaunted a healthy sun-kissed glow but Ron, who was struggling with two large suitcases, had turned a rather nasty shade of lobster.

"Alright Harry?" Ron took off his hat and sunglasses and ruffled his hair with a sunburnt hand

"When did you get back?" Harry was surprised to see the pair, he'd only got that stupid postcard a few minutes ago. He felt churlish about it now though, he was excited to see them again and Hermione looked more relaxed than she had done in years. Leaving Hogwarts seemed to agree with her.

First Principles of Auror Theory lay forgotten under Ron's hat as the three of them began to catch up eagerly on the events of the past week.

"We flew in this morning," Hermione explained. "Then got the train here."

"Hermione insists on doing everything muggle-like," said Ron. "Because she'd leaving it all behind when we get our flat and she starts working at the Ministry."

"You got the job?"

Harry felt terrible, he'd completely forgotten about Hermione's interview at the Ministry for one of the internships the Minister of Magic's Office offered to talented graduates after they finished their NEWT exams. He knew the competition had been fierce, but surely Hermione had been a shoo-in for it? She'd come top in the NEWTS at Hogwarts, and she'd been Head Girl. If she didn't get it, who would?

Hermione sighed. "I haven't heard yet," she confessed, looking slightly nervous.

"Don't worry, you'll get it," reassured Ron, putting his arm round her waist. She did the same but it didn't go down well with Ron:

"Ouch, don't touch me there, it really bloody hurts!"

"Well I told you to put sun tan lotion on, didn't I?" said Hermione. "But oh, you didn't need it did you, you said you'd be okay..." she shook her head. "I warned you Ron, and with your skin..honestly," she looked completely exasperated and turned to Harry. "The first day, he fell asleep on the beach and came back bright pink!"

Harry giggled.

"Don't laugh," grumbled Ron, "If you'd kept an eye on me...."

"It's not my fault! You didn't want to go to the museum with me, remember? I had to go by myself. You said you wanted to sit in the sun as long as possible because we never get any in England. Your first holiday in bloody forever you said."

"Well you're wrong about that," said Harry. "It's been roasting here. Ron would probably look like that if he sat in the back garden for too long."

He drank some of his milk. "But you had a good time, all things considered?"

"Ooohh yes," beamed Hermione. "it was great. Can't wait to get started here though. I haven't brought much stuff with me, (Ron made a face at Harry, gesturing at the two huge suitcases he'd wrestled with since they landed), "but once we get a flat my parents are going to drive down with the rest of my things. They've got some stuff they said we could have as well, you know, bathmats and a toaster, that kind of thing."

"Fantastic" said Ron sarcastically.

Hermione pouted. "Don't mock Ron! We're not going to have much cash when we first start out. The pay of a trainee Auror and a just graduated ministry beaurocrat is not princely! It costs a lot to get on your feet, a deposit for the flat and the first months rent. Then there's the bills and buying groceries and loads of stuff you have to buy like a toilet brush and stuff. It's not easy!"

"Toilet brush?" Ron looked stunned. "Relax Herm, it's 'sposed to be fun living on our own. I hope you don't turn into Mum!"

"I'm not, but we have to be practical, we're gonna need stuff!"

"Hang on," interrupted Harry, sensing another argument similar to those they had at Hogwarts about to take over the entire afternoon. "Don't you think we should try and find somewhere to live first, before you two start bickering about toilet brushes or toasters or whatever?" He reached over to the pile of newspapers on the worktop. "I've been looking in the to-let section of the Daily Prophet all this week. Sirius and I have circled the good ones."

Hermione and Ron leaned over the table to look.

"You're right," said Hermione. "We've got to find somewhere to live first. Let's hope there's some half decent places in there."

"I wouldn't hold your breath," said Harry. He related the horror stories Sirius and Remus had told him on his first night home from Hogwarts.

"Christ I hope not," said Ron. "I don't mind a bit of chaos but I wouldn't mind running water."

Hermione nodded. "we'll have to find something liveable 'cos if your mum comes to visit and sees it's a death trap she'll have you dragged back to the Burrow in no time."

Ron made a face.

"Besides," said Hermione. "I'm not living in any bloody death trap."


	4. House Hunting

Chapter 4

House Hunting

"Bleedin' hell," said Ron over his pint in the Leaky Caldron that lunchtime. "Let's hope we have more luck this afternoon. That last place! The "third" bedroom was a cupboard! Imagine sleeping in there!"

"Err, hello? What d'you think I did for the first eleven years of my life!" Harry took a bite of a ham sandwich from the huge wooden platter in the middle of the table. "Christ, you'd think being "the boy who lived" would give you an edge in the house hunting market. That one in New Cross wasn't fit for a house elf!"

Hermione scowled. "This isn't a very positive attitude you two! It's early days, we've only been looking for one morning and we've got three to look at this afternoon. We're bound to find somewhere eventually."

"Yeah, but when? I don't fancy living at Grimmauld Place much longer," said Harry.

"It beats the Burrow," said Ron.

"But that's 'cos you can't have Hermione in your room at the Burrow."

Hermione spluttered behind her flagon of butterbeer. "Do you mind? I am sitting right next to you, you know!"

"Sorry," said Harry, trying to look remorseful.

Ron blushed under his sunburn. "Okay, okay, I know we need to find somewhere, and fast." He turned suddenly to Hermione. "What about a muggle place? We've just been looking in the Daily Prophet so far."

"Don't you think we might arouse suspicion? Three kids leaving in wizards' robes every morning?"

"Duh! We'd apparate, wouldn't we? Here, Herm, what d'you reckon? Are muggle flats any better?"

She made a face. "Just as bad, if not worse, I'm afraid. Some of the stories I've heard from friends and relatives that have to rent because they're priced out of the housing market... Anyway, I think it'd have to be a wizarding apartment, 'cos Dumbledore'll have to protect it, put spells and charms on it and stuff so that we're safe from You-Know-Who."

Harry looked down into his dwindling pint, saying nothing.

"Ahh, well," sighed Ron cheerfully. "That's the trouble with living with The Boy Who Lived, as it were." He chortled and finished his drink.

Harry looked up. "Listen, if you two don't want to move in with me, it's fair enough, I understand..."

"Don't be ridiculous Harry," said Hermione. "We've been looking forward to this for ages, getting our freedom form school and parents. You deserve a normal life as much as we do, if not more. And we're going to try bloody hard to let you have one, despite everything."

"Yeah," said Ron enthusiastically. "Hermione and I know what we're getting into, but we're up for it. You-Know-Who might be out there, but there's parties to hold and booze to be drunk. No one's going to get in the way of that, as much as I can help it."

"Not too many parties though Ron," chided Hermione anxiously. "We will have work to go to most days, you know."

Ron made a face across the table, "yeah, yeah, mum..." he muttered.

Hermione pretended not to hear and turned back to Harry.

"Dumbledore'll protect the place, you'll see. He knows how important this is to you." She paused for a minute and surveyed their empty glasses. "Right, where's the next one? Shepherds Bush? We'd better get the tube..."

* * *

Hours later, the trio were surveying the seventh dingy hallway they'd seen that day. The walls were a grim mustard colour and dust lay thickly on the floor. Hermione flinched as something rustled in the comer.

"..and this is the first bedroom," the russet-haired middle-aged witch was saying, opening a door on her right. Inside, sunlight strained around the thick grey curtains to slightly reveal a messy room strewn with pizza boxes and rolls of parchment. "It's quite a good size, and all the furniture comes with it"

Harry wasn't sure, the place was filthy and you'd have been pushed to fit his old Hogwarts four-poster in with any room to spare.

"Urghhh, who's there?" came a groan from the darkened bed in the corner. They jumped, Harry hadn't realised someone was in there. When they'd met Mrs Fratchly outside of the flat no one had answered the buzzer so she'd let them in with her own set of keys.

"It's Mrs Fratchly, Tarquin. I'm showing some people around the flat."

The black lump rolled over with a loud "Humpff."

"Students," the witch explained as she closed the door behind them. "It's the last time I rent a place out to them. They're a nightmare."

Hermione looked appalled. Who was still in bed at five o'clock in the evening?

A quick tour of the rest of the flat showed two untidy bedrooms, although these were empty, a rotten blue bathroom suit and a kitchen-diner with an ancient stove and mice behind the fire place.

"We'll let you know," said Ron as they hurriedly made their exit, tripping over the traffic cone in the hallway as they went.

"Crap," sighed Harry, "this is hopeless. They're all horrible."

"One or two weren't bad," said Hermione, more optimistically than she felt. "Just needed a good sprucing. A few cleaning spells and they'd be okay. Maybe we could get permission to paint some of the walls too."

Ron looked doubtful. "That's not going to get rid of the rats or the terrible smell, or the kitchen cupboards full of bugs." He shuddered. "Still, good job I haven't much stuff to take with me. There wasn't room to swing Crookshanks in any of those bedrooms we saw."

"As if he'd let you," retorted Hermione, letting go of his hand. "We've been spoiled," she said matter of factly. "Living at Hogwarts has always been cosy, it's a bloody great castle for Christ's sake. We haven't has to rough it before, except you at the Dursleys, Harry."

"You're right." Harry blinked behind his glasses. "We were quite naive, I suppose."

"Let's hope tomorrow's Prophet has some more places advertised," said Ron as they made their way into the underground station. "I'm starving after today, anyone fancy a Chinese?"

Harry and Hermione nodded in agreement. "But let's go home first, I'm knackered. We can send Hedwig out to Mr Kim's."

* * *

As they walked into Sirius' kitchen, they saw another owl spluttering over the tea it sipped from Remus' saucer.

"How'd it go?" asked their former professor, putting down his book and getting up from his chair.

"Nightmare," said Harry, as he and Hermione sunk onto the heavy oak bench that seated one side of the kitchen table. Remus nodded sympathetically.

"When did Pig get here?" asked Ron, indicating the fluffball sitting on beside the tea cup.

"A few minutes ago, actually. This is for you." He handed a roll of parchment to Ron. "Tea, anyone? You all look like you could do with it."

"Please," said Hermione.

Harry nodded. "Where's Sirius?"

"In the bath," Remus placed three cups and saucers in front of them and brought over the teapot, resplendent in a Mrs Figg-style knitted teacosy.

Harry scrabbled in the pile of papers and post that seemed to live on the kitchen table, looking for Mr Kim's takeaway menu.

"Who's the letter from Ron?" asked Hermione, leaning her head on her hand.

"It's from dad. He says he saw some flats to rent on a notice board at work. Here, he's written them down for us." Harry, Hermione and Remus leaned over to see what Mr Weasley had written.

_Dear Ron,_

_Just saw these on the notice board at work, and thought they might be worth looking into. Hope you are well and the holiday was a success. Your mother and I send our love,_

_Dad._

Underneath Mr Weasley had scribbled:

_Flat to-let: 3 bedrooms, kitchen-diner, close to shops and amenities, Elephant and Castle, 70 Galleons a month. Mr Carmichael, 6 Green Villas, Croyden_

_Spacious flat to rent, 3 bedrooms, kitchen-diner and bathroom. Primrose Hill, 78 Galleons a month. Mr & Mrs Derrywine, The Granary, Silkton, Herts._

"They sound all right," shrugged Ron, looking at Hermione and Harry.

"Yeah, lets send Pig back saying we'll see them tomorrow morning," Harry reached over to the worktop trying to grab a quill and a piece of parchment.

"They sound quite promising Harry," said Remus, as he poured tea.

"Well, they couldn't be any worse than the ones we saw today," he grumbled as he wrote notes to Mr Carmichael and the Derrywines.

Remus looked at him anxiously, "You'll find somewhere, don't worry." Remus' heart ached for the three youngsters beneath his tattered lambs wool sweater. They looked so young, they'd only been out of school a week and he hated to see them under so much pressure already when they should be having fun. Still, that was being an adult for you. With a quiet sigh, he turned to Hermione and Ron who were squabbling over the Mr Kim's menu.

"Ron, don't get the chow-main, you hate bean sprouts!"

"No, I don't, it's Harry who doesn't like them."

"It's you who doesn't. Don't get it, 'cos then you won't eat it and you'll eat all of mine!"

"Why don't we get the set menu? That way you get a choice of several dishes." Remus leant against the kitchen cupboards behind them in his battered old cords and found himself half wishing they'd find a place soon.


End file.
